


Worth it

by onkoona



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Interlude, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 06:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3639798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onkoona/pseuds/onkoona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Harry lost his smile and replied, "You know why." He sighed at her look of 'well, exactly'. "He can't help it; it's just a reflex, comes from years of having to guard his back, from having to rely on no one but himself," Harry explained."<br/>Harry/Severus (soft yaoi)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth it

**Worth it.**

HP*HP*HP

With a practised move Harry pulled up the ends of the blanket and sheet that were wrapped around his pyjama clad form off the floor so he wouldn't trip as he made his way on soundless bare feet down the dark passage. After following the winding path, occasionally feeling the location of the cold almost damp walls with his free hand when the already dim lighting failed altogether, he reached a dark niche set in a sharp right hand bend in the passage.

Harry didn't seem to need any illumination here, as his hand knowingly found the nob that was on the heavy oak door set deep in the dark niche. You could tell that it wasn't some magic trick that made him see in the dark or any such thing that he was using, for trick like that would not have told him the right way to twist the nob just so that it would open the door at the first try. No, you could tell that Harry knew he had the knack down pat as he applied it and the door creaked open, letting in the early morning light.

He slipped through the doorway and quickly and silently closed the door behind him. He squinted in the early morning light as he made his way across the polished hardwood floor towards the only source of light in the room: the big bay window set in the wall opposite the door Harry had used to enter. He had to skirt the big dark wooden table standing in the middle of the space, but this too he did with practised ease, even if he did use a hand to slide along the table's sides, almost as though he needed the extra guidance.

And maybe he did, because once he'd reached the window, he veered off to the left and seemed to look for something in or on the dresser that sat next to window bay, groping about with his free hand. Presently he'd managed to pry open the right most top drawer and he'd retrieved a pair of old fashioned round rimmed glasses. He put them on straight away and sighed audibly.

For a long moment he just stood there, looking out of the window to the fresh green spring landscape bathed in early morning sunlight, letting the fury of his previous actions visibly fall away from him. Then he sighed again, this time smiling. He looked away from the window, back at the drawer. He turned around and retrieved something from it; a book. "The Three Musketeers" it read on the worn green leather spine.

He glanced around, found the clock on the wall above a second large door that read almost a quarter to six. He glanced further and spotted a high backed chair pushed against the wall next to the door he'd used. On his way to fetch it, he dropped the book on the table, almost losing his blanket and sheet in the process. He placed the chair by the table, sat down, re-wrapping himself with one hand as he opened the book with the other at a vellum bookmark, almost starting to read before the book was even properly opened.

HP*HP*HP

"Harry, child, not again!"

Harry looked up from his book, realizing the room was quite a bit brighter than when he lost interested in his surroundings in favour of reading. He smiled at the morning attire the Headmistress of Hogwarts wore: a thick tartan bathrobe over a striped cotton nightshirt that fell all the way to tartan slippers lined with dark fur. Minerva McGonagall wore her hair down in a plait and was without her daytime hat, making her look informal. Under her arm were three small leather bound books.

"Good morning, Professor," Harry greeted, blithely ignoring her opening remark. The Headmistress, who had come in through the second, bigger door, moved to a sideboard near that door and put her books down.

"It's 'Minerva', child, as I've said before," she said, sounding a bit exasperated.

Harry couldn't help but smile, as he answered, "only if you stop calling me 'child', as I've asked before. I'm quite grown up, you know."

At this Minerva looked around from her actions at the sideboard, cast her gaze over the top of her ever-present reading glasses, raised one eyebrow and said, "Then why is it I find you sitting here, again, at this early hour, wearing your night clothes only?"

Harry lost his smile and replied, "You know why." He sighed at her look of 'well, exactly'. "He can't help it; it's just a reflex, comes from years of having to guard his back, from having to rely on no one but himself," Harry explained.

Minerva's mouth formed a thin line at that but she gave a terse nod, showing she had grasped the concept but not that she necessarily agreed with it. Harry decided not to defend the matter further, especially as he could only grasp the reasoning with his mind, not with his heart.

Just then Minerva moved, heading around the table in the direction of a book case that stood behind Harry against the wall, again carrying her books. She glanced at him and, "Oh, for heaven's sake, child!" The next moment she had her wand out and pointing at Harry's naked feet. "Levamentem Pedes!" she cast and Harry's pale feet, which he hadn't noticed had grown quite cold, first tingled and then warmed up and felt encased in something warm and soft. He looked down and he found himself wearing thick red and green argyle socks tucked into red tartan booties, which had dark fur inside, a matching pair to Minerva's own.

"Uh, thanks, I didn't get time to grab my wand," he said sheepishly.

"Aye, and your glasses too, I see, those are your old ones, aren't they," Minerva's tone was just this side of accusatory. "Why not let me prepare a room for ya? That way you have somewhere to go when he gets like that."

Her suggestion was quite reasonable, Harry agreed in principle, but... "If I have my own room to go to, Severus will never let me stay the night ever again. I'll have lost the only excuse that stops him from chucking me out in the evening," Harry tried to explain.

"So he chucks you out early in the morning instead? And without your wand or your glasses. Or even slippers!" Minerva voice went up in indignation at the end.

_At least I was dressed for a cold night,_ Harry thought to himself. To Minerva he gave a hopefully disarming smile, and he shrugged his shoulders, adding, "At least we ended up spending most of the night together."

The smile must have worked, because Minerva sighed deeply and shook her head. "Ye're crazy, the pair o' ya," she muttered and Harry pretended not to have heard as he turned back to his book while the Headmistress took up the books she had brought and proceeded to put them in the book case, before taking out another volume and starting to leaf through it.

For some minutes they shared a comfortable silence but then Minerva spoke again, not bothering to turn away from the book in her hand. "Harry, are you sure this is what you want?"

Harry turned around in his seat and met Minerva's concerned gaze. "You are young and you should be exploring the world, instead of camping out at your old school, surrounded by your old teachers and even older portraits. This can't be good for you..." she trailed off.

Harry pushed his glasses back up his nose; they had slipped down because he'd been bent over his book. The action provided an unintentional dramatic pause, giving Harry time to formulate his answer. "I've had my fill of adventures. Now all I want is a quiet life with Severus. And I damn the Ministry for making that impossible." He turned further in his seat, unintentionally scraping the wooden legs across the wooden floor with a rumble. His tone went up as he spoke on. "Severus deserves his freedom after all he has done for the Wizarding World; they owe him big time. And what does he get? Instead of gratitude, he gets a trial and instead of a medal, he gets 20 years of house arrest. 20 years! The bastards!"

"Harry!" Minerva's tone was in full teacher mode, emphasizing it with the  _thump_  of the book in her hand closing. But he saw no reason to take the word back; they were bastards, all of them. So he gave her a hard look, keeping his mouth firmly closed. For a moment they held gazes and then Minerva's expression dissolved into a sad one.

"But why Severus, Harry? There are so many people, girls and boys both, that would suit you so much better. The age difference," but here Harry interrupted her. "To hell with the age difference! I don't want someone my own age; they are all either so immature because they missed the war, because their parents took them elsewhere, or they are tainted by the war and feel they can assess what happened, which they can't because only a few of us were in that deep. Only a few of us know the truth of the war."

"But that's what worries me," Minerva said. "Severus has suffered more than most in the war and so have you. And I don't see Severus mellowing at all; in fact he's getting worse, and being around him can't be good for you, child."

"Minerva, I am not a child. And I don't think I ever was. The way my life has been has made me different from anybody else in the world. And no one can truly understand that except Severus." He paused, taking a deep breath. "He understands, he really does. Every time he, or I, speak of the war, what he says shows me that he understands. He also understands the nightmares I have, because he has them too. He doesn't try to 'cure' me of having certain thoughts and feeling about my past, because he has the same thoughts and feelings. He doesn't try to change me, make me normal, like everybody else is trying to do. And I would never do that him, will never do that to him!

"He accepts me for who I actually am, not for some sham hero image. And I take him for who he is, warts and all. And if that means ending up here reading a good book in my PJs every morning, well, that suits me just fine. All that I hope for is that some day he can let his guard down enough to let me stay for breakfast. But since it took him nearly 40 years to build up his defences, it might be a while," he added with a wry smile.

Minerva was silent for a long moment, her expression neutral. "And what happens in 20 years, when his house arrest here ends? Harry, he will not stay, I'm sure of it."

Harry sighed. "I know. I know the moment the arrest is lifted he will be packed and gone from here, never to be seen or heard of again. But," he swallowed, "I'm hoping that 20 years is enough time for me to have become so much a part of his life that he'll just pack me right up with all of his other stuff and take me with him without a second thought."

He could see Minerva's eyes glitter with a thin sheen of tears and Harry found his own eyes weren't quite dry either. Neither spoke for another long moment. Then the moment burst and the Headmistress straightened herself to her regulation teacher height, back stiff, gazing down upon her ex-pupil, now staff member. She pulled out her wand again, pointed at Harry, ready to cast.

"Well now, let's get ya ready for the day, young man. Velociter Veste!"

HP*HP*HP

The End.


End file.
